


Memorials (part 2)

by elcasaurus



Series: Memorials [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elcasaurus/pseuds/elcasaurus
Summary: Tifa has managed to survive Sephiroth's memories so far. But now, they find themselves sharing dangerous secrets.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Sephiroth, Tifa Lockhart/Sephiroth
Series: Memorials [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163168
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Memorials (part 2)

(7)

She had never before been the soul focus of his wrath. Always it was Cloud that drew the worst of his rage, absorbing it as if to keep the rest of them safe. Sephiroth’s fury sucked the air from her, his anger stole her voice. His hands closed over her arms and gripped so hard she was sure he would break them. For the moment the terror overwhelmed her, and it was all she could manage was a frightened squeak.

He snapped his eyes shut, and with a terrible snarl peeled his own hands from her arms. He straightened himself and crossed his arms, glaring down at her with an icy rage. “Answer the question.”

Tifa rubbed her bruising arms and forced herself to clear her head. “I. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago, and I don’t really understand-”

“Answer Me!” He screamed so loud it seemed to cut off all other noise. She clapped her hands over here ears and shut her eyes. He was going to attack and there was nothing she could do about it. She was cut off from the gate by his position. If she ran he would catch her easily. All she could do was suffer whatever horror he had for her and make her decisions after. 

No blow came. No vicious attack. No touch of violence. When she opened her eyes he’d backed off, muttering to himself and pacing. 

“Jenova was an Ancient. Dug up from the ice by Shinra.” He had crossed his arms over his chest, and was tapping his finger on his forearm as he worked through his thoughts, “She fell from the sky thousands of years ago,” he paused as if he caught himself. “No. The Ancients were already here.” He continued pacing, “Jenova was an Ancient. She founded the Ancient race when she fell from the sky. She was betrayed by the humans, who wanted to stop traveling. Traitorous, spineless, useless humans.”

Tifa pulled her hands from her ears and whispered, “Jenova was an alien being who fell from the sky thousands of years ago. She didn’t have anything to do with the Ancients, except maybe for wiping them out. Shinra was wrong.” 

He rubbed his face, growling, “I was created from Jenova cells. Ancient cells. Shinra made me. Implanted them into a fetus and then grew me in one of their fucking vats.” 

“No,” she whispered, “No that’s not true either. You were born like anyone else.”

That made him stop his pacing and look directly at her, and with a cold dark calm, said “You little bitch. Don’t you dare.”

A moment in Nibelheim flashed in her mind. Sephiroth asking Cloud what it was like to be home, what it was like to have a home. I wouldn’t know, he’d said to Cloud. I don’t have one. It was the crack in his psyche that Jenova had most easily exploited. His deep longing for a family. 

She was on the thinnest of ice. 

She opened her mouth to reply as a gate lit up. It was the day they had met Lucretia, Sephiroth’s very real, very human mother. Sephiroth saw it, focused on it like a predator on his prey, and reached for her to drag her through the gate. 

“Wait!” she screamed, digging her heels into the rocky floor. “Stop it and listen to me!”

He growled under his breath, “You’re showing me everything you know. Right now.”

“No. Stop it. Stop it!” She twisted herself free, something she could only do if he let her. She was panting for breath and felt like she’d been fighting for a lifetime. He was towering over her, ready to attack again. Ready to drag her kicking and screaming into that memory. She ignored him for a few seconds, blocking him out to give them both a few moments to calm down. 

“Look,” she said, still breathless. “Reacting before you understood everything is what got us all here.”

He was still growling, but he consciously opened his clenched fist and stretched his fingers wide, concentrating, she believed, on not ripping her apart. 

“There is something in that memory,” she said carefully, through still labored breath. “That is really, and I mean really, going to piss you off.” She smoothed her heavy dark hair from her face and off her shoulders, then let it fall back into place. “You should deal with this first, before you deal with that.” 

He moved to stalk to her, all rage and darkness, and she yelled at him, “You promised!” 

He stopped. 

She rubbed her bruised arms and made sure she wasn’t whimpering, “You already broke one.” She could not keep the fear from rising into her voice. The angry tears. The exhaustion of fending him off. If he pushed just a little further, she would fall apart entirely.

Finally, his wing lowered, and retreated into his back. When he reached out to her this time, it was to brush a gloved fingertip over her arm, as if he hadn’t realize he had hurt her. His gentle touch sent shivers through her body. It was so much worse when he pretended to be kind. “I.. apologize.”

She let out all the terror and tension from her shoulders by mindful intent. She did not think she’d ever heard him say those words, or ever expected to hear them again. Still, breaking his promise not to hurt her almost immediately after making it did not bode well, apologies or not.

“Jenova is not an Ancient,” she said softly. “You are not an Ancient.” He sighed, and shook his head. For a second he almost looked human in his confusion and despair.

“Give me a minute.”

She nodded, and inched away from him. “Take all the time you need.”

Sephiroth had withdrawn into himself to think, which gave Tifa a little break that she desperately needed. 

There really wasn’t anything else to do in the memory field, thougha. It was nothing but vast and varied rocks and gates. Above the lifestream glowed and shifted, but even staring at that for a while got boring. She wasn’t used to boredom. She was used to constant, consistent work. It was the bar, or caring for the kids she watched over, or managing Cloud’s mercenary jobs, or fielding tips from Reeve, or the daily ever present training that made up her life. She wasn’t used to long swatches of nothing to do, nothing to pour herself into, nothing to keep her mind from stabbing itself on sharp memories. 

She did have herself and her own body to work with. She knew plenty of body weight exercises to keep herself busy for at least the first part of forever. She spent the hours or days working herself to exhaustion, and then curling up against the warm rock formations to rest. She would get tired and sleep but never seemed to feel hungry or thirsty. She managed to avoid any new memory gates spawning in that time. 

Weeks or months or years or a few hours later she had worked herself to the limit with a long series of burpees and was laying spread eagle on the ground, letting her body cool and leaving an angel of sweat on the rock. Suddenly, Sephiroth was standing next to her, looking down at her with a momentary curiosity, and then nudged her hip with his heavy boot. She got up and dusted herself off. He was quiet, sullen, and seemed like he’d lost some of his burning energy. Perhaps after his rest he could stand to he behave himself. He cupped her elbow with his hand in an oddly gentlemanly way and guided her to his own memory, the one that had spawned when she’d asked about Genesis. Apparently he was ready.

(8)

By the time Sephiroth was seventeen he was already a decorated war veteran. He’d begun training at 12, entered front line combat at 14, and been an unstoppable force for Shinra’s army since. His skill on the battle field spoke for itself, but the more subtle ability he had to lead and inspire was equally valuable, both from his brilliant strategy in the war, and the usefulness of marketing him to the masses. From even his earliest, youngest days he’d been in a league entirely on his own of combat, leadership, and strategy. Shinra spent millions of gil making him famous. He was the face of the war in Wutai, and his face and name were everywhere. He was entirely in a league of his own in skill, combat and fame, and he kept himself as distanced as he could from all of it.

Until today. Two new Soldier First Class were in the transport with him. Boys from some hick town that sold apples that had somehow risen rapidly through the army’s ranks to challenge even Sephiroth himself. As a pair they’d proved brilliant in battle, had both aced all of the tests, and landed themselves brand new First Class uniforms and a place in his party. No one was sure how he would handle no longer being an only child. There were concerns that he’d dislike or even attack the boys. Still, the army needed a backup plan in case Sephiroth were ever lost in battle, and having three heroes was much better than one. 

The teenagers had been briefly introduced before loading up into transport and rolling out on a fairly light infiltration mission. Baby steps and training, testing how well the three boys could work together. The taller, heavier muscled one was Angeal, and the slimmer, attractive redhead was Genesis. 

At least they’d had the good graces to be afraid of him. The boys stole nervous glances at each other and worked on being good, polite, stoic soldiers. At 17 Sephiroth hadn’t grown into the depth of his muscle yet, but he was still well over 6’5 and had a powerful, broad shouldered frame. He cut an imposing figure and he liked to use it to his advantage. Here, it wasn’t working for him. The boys answered questions quickly and efficiently and then shut their mouths just as they’d been trained. That was fine if they were guards or lower class Soldiers, but he needed them to engage on his level if he was going to get their full use out of them. He have them a good thirty minutes to initiate, and then cleared his throat. 

“Hey, wanna hear a joke?”

The boys looked up at him in confusion and, at least from Genesis, a reasonable amount of fear. Angeal eyed him up as if assessing a very dangerous threat, and then shrugged his shoulders, “Sure.”

Good. Engagement was good. Now to shock them out of their reverie.

Sephiroth launched into a long, repetitive, filthy joke about a farmer’s wife and a corn seller. It was complete with imitations and hand gestures, and at several points he stood up to mimic what the corn seller was doing with an enthusiastic display of hip thrusting. Genesis’s jaw slowly dropped in awe. Angeal slowly raised a single eyebrow.

“So finally he says, Ma’am, I have a confession to make. That wasn’t a cob of corn. And she says, Oh that’s alright. It wasn’t butter.”

There was a long, wonderfully uncomfortable moment of silence after the punch line, and he wondered if he’d painfully misjudged both of them. Finally, in unison, they all burst into the deep, pure laughter that only a teenage boy can really capture, Soldiers or not. 

“Oh shit! Oh shit! I didn’t know you were cool!” yelled Genesis. 

“Shut up, don’t tell anyone.” Sephiroth snapped, but couldn’t stop the wide happy smile from plastering itself on his face. It felt good to let his guard down a little. It was good to think he could have friends.

“Okay, my turn,” said Angeal, to Sephiroth’s surprise. “So these two nuns take a different way home than usual..” 

He had a feeling they would get along just fine. 

(9)

Tifa was stunned by the short but joyful memory, and looked up at the ruin of the teenage boy he had been. She had never imagined this man happy and jolly, and had certainly never considered that he’d once had friends. Much less be the kind of boy who tells dirty jokes on long rides. Sephiroth was dark and hungry and angry. He could never have been the lonely boy hoping for comrades.

“That was Genesis?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, and Angeal.” 

“Where, what happened to them?”

“Dead, both of them.” 

She flinched. Of course. She wondered if he’d killed them. She couldn’t imagine him having nothing to do with their losses. Still, there was a mourning to the angle of his shoulders, and a way that he seemed to bow his head for a moment. She wondered if he was capable of remorse. 

“Do you want to tell me more about them?” A risky move, she knew, but everything was risking his wrath, and she may as well make the attempt. He shrugged. 

“Angeal was my ride or die from then on. He was stalwart, and brave, and honorable. He was the one man who would look me in the eye and call me on my shit.” He gave a soft, affectionate smile. Tifa shivered at how lovely he was when he wasn’t feeling murderous. “Once he punched me right in the face for being rude to a girl. Broke my nose. I never did it again.” He chuckled softly and touched his face, as though it was a beloved memory. “He’d give a lecture like the best mother hen if he thought any of us were out of line. But he was also so good to me. So patient. Taught me everything I know about being a decent man.” 

Guess he hadn’t one much of a good job, thought Tifa, although she knew much better than to say it out loud. But this Sephiroth didn’t seem to be the callous psychopath that had tormented the world at the moment. This was a man talking about people he cared about. The difference was jarring. She wondered how long it would take for him to revert to his violence.

“He wasn’t afraid of me at all. Said he never compared himself to me, only ever tried to compete against himself. Said, I was his brother and he’d always love me.” There was a catch in his voice, a sudden terrible pain. It was an emotion she was not aware he was capable of. Sephiroth inhaled sharply and stared up at the lifestream, as though steadying himself. “He would always ask, Sephiroth, what is your dream? I’d have a different answer for him every time, just to mess with him. Tell him, world domination. Ultimate power. Murder and ruin. Just so he’d keep asking, because I loved how much he cared.”

He sighed slowly and then winked at her, “Of course he was a demon on the battle field. That helped a lot too. He did his part in the war, same as all of us.”

What kind of man could befriend such a monster? Make him feel welcomed and loved? Even stand up to him? Give him brotherly advice? Tifa shivered, but said “He sounds nice.” 

He nodded slowly, still solemn from the memory. “Genesis was different.” 

A new memory opened near this one, in what she guessed would be a cluster of his thoughts about his lost friends. She waited to see if he wanted to go into it. He stared through the gate for a long time, frozen in his own thoughts, as though reconciling the man he had been and the vicious monster he was now. Finally he turned to her and said, “Another time perhaps. For now, I would.. I would appreciate it if you told me what you know.”

“About your mother.” 

He flinched at the word, at referring to anything but Jenova by that name. He clenched his jaw and hissed at her, “Yes. I want to know.” He inhaled slowly and then said in a low, desperate voice, “Please.” 

“I am avoiding this,” she said gently, “Because it is going to make you very angry. Can you promise you won’t hurt me, even if you’re really upset?”

“I don’t appreciate being teased, Tifa,” he snapped. The polite Soldier he barely remembered being had faded, and the monster had returned. 

“I need you to have a plan,” she said. Once he saw her memory of Lucretia, he was going to be murderous. She did not want to be in reach of him while he raged. 

“Cowardly little simp,” he hissed. Well, that hadn’t lasted long, she thought. 

“I will take you through the memory if you can promise you won’t hurt me after.” 

“I already promised that,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Ten minutes later you almost broke my arms because you were upset. You can’t do that. You can’t break your promises with me.” 

He opened his mouth to snarl some other insult at her, but glanced at her fading bruises, and let it out as a low frustrated sound instead. “Fine. If I feel,” he snapped his fingers, “Pissy. Why don’t you escape to another memory. Go see that little flower girl you all liked so much.” He motioned to the memory of Aeris. 

She chewed her lip as she thought about it. Maybe it was a trap. Maybe he’d never let her out. Or worse, maybe he was lying and she couldn’t go into a memory without him. Still, it was better than being stuck with him while he raged. She nodded in agreement. 

“Then, are you ready?” she asked. 

He nodded, and held out a hand to her. She grudgingly took it, and lead him into her memory of his mother.

(10)

Tifa had never entirely decided how she felt about Lucretia. 

They met the woman in a hidden crystal cave, deep in the mountains in a lake filled crater. Tifa remembered thinking how small the woman had been. How normal she had looked. She had soft brown hair and eyes, and a pretty face. She seemed sweet, if timid, and smart. Tifa had thought that if things had been different, she might have liked her a lot. 

She glanced up at the god that stood next to her, and wondered where on earth his genetics had come from. How had that ugly scumbag Hojo and this kind little woman produced him? Now that she could look at Lucretia in the memory, she supposed she could see Lucretia’s soft, angelic features in Sephiroth. He had her jaw and their eyes were the same shape. He’d gotten the texture of his hair from her at least, if not the color, and the cowlicks that swept his bangs up and away from his hairline in a natural frame. Tifa could see that he really was her child. She didn’t see any of Hojo’s harsh square face, ratty black hair, or stooped posture in him. His physical frame must have been entirely Jenova’s doing, as neither scientist had his tall, graceful form or natural strength, a body that would have been powerful even without the Jenova enhancements. 

This memory was itself an inception. She and her friends had listened as Vincent, beautiful, sad, poetic Vincent, retold their story together. How Lucretia had fallen in love with Vincent, but ultimately chosen to stay with her husband, Dr. Hojo. Maybe it had been wrong of her to let her heart stray like that, Tifa had thought, but Hojo was so cruel, and so manipulative, more than enough to make her seek an out. Tifa thought she would simply have left him herself. Everyone liked to think that. She also knew what it was like to love the wrong man, and how long and how tightly a woman could hold onto it. Personally though, she never did understand who would ever choose that mean little troll over Vincent. 

Tifa grimaced when Lucretia tearfully confessed everything to Hojo. Of course he took her back, of course he forgave her, loved her, reminded her every day of her mistake and infidelity. Lucretia broke everything off with Vincent, and did her best to work on her marriage, but Hojo had an upper hand on her that she would never get out from under. And when she discovered her pregnancy it was the ammunition he used to convince her to submit her baby, their baby, to Gast’s deeply unethical plan. To expose Lucretia herself to the alien dna, and then infect the fetus at a crucial development point in an attempt to recreate the being’s race in living flesh.

Tifa risked a glance up at Sephiroth, gauging how he accepted the information. He was stony, cold and silent. Her hand hurt. She looked down and realized he had never let her go, and now he was squeezing her tightly. His jaw clenched. His breathing was even and slow. Sephiroth had deeply, instinctively hated Hojo. And now he knew. He wasn’t birthed by a glorious ancient goddess. He hadn’t been cloned and manufactured by Shinra. His mother was a gentle woman trying to fix her life and mistakes, and his father was Hojo himself. 

They stood in silence for the rest of the story, how the entire process, pregnancy and birth had very nearly killed Lucretia, and how Vincent had attempted to stop it all. How he’d begged Lucretia not to do it. How he’d confronted Hojo. And how Hojo had finally murdered him, manipulated Vincent’s body with Jenova cells, and sealed the corpse away for she and her friends to resurrect years later. How Vincent was now something undead and inhuman, tormented by everything he had failed to do. 

The part that Tifa could never understand and could never agree with was how Lucretia had escaped without her son. 

She knew herself, and she knew how much she would do for the kids she watched over. She’d risked her life for both Marlene and Denzel more than once. She’d fought a Bahamut over Denzel when Sephiroth’s remnants unleashed it on the city. She’d fought one of Sephiroth’s remnant solo when he tried to steal Marlene. She knew that when it came down to it, she would protect those kids with every ounce of her being, and they weren’t even her kids, not really. And yet when Lucretia escaped, she did it without Sephiroth. Her own son. She’d left him to Gast and Hojo, and had sealed herself away in the crystal cave in shame of everything she’d done. She’d even told them how she’d tried to kill herself and had been unsuccessful. She knew she was guilty and sad and deeply remorseful. She knew she loved her son and wished she’d done better for him. Tifa knew that there had to be a way to understand everything the woman had been through and all the decisions she had made, but she simply could not wrap her head around leaving an innocent child with those demons. 

When the memory ended, Sephiroth stood in silence for an unnerving length of time. Slowly he looked down at her hand that he still held, as if puzzled by it, and then began motion. He walked, quickened his pace, and dragged her with him to the memory of Aeris. He suddenly, roughly, threw her through, hard enough that she fell onto the rock. The gate closed behind her and she was alone in the silence of the canyon night. On the other side of the gate, she thought that she could feel him scream. 

(11)  
Tifa stood up and brushed the dirt off her legs. She was safe enough for the moment, and every one of those moments was a win. She shook herself off for good measure. Aside from stepping outside into the life stream, it was the only time she’d been separated from Sephiroth since she’d fallen into the mako. Tension and fear eased out of the muscles of her shoulders. She smoothed her long brown hair over her shoulder and absently braided it, then unbraided it, and then tied the ends and left it down. The ritual was soothing. She would deal with Sephiroth and his anger later. For now, she needed to take advantage of the break. 

She wandered to the cliff where she and Aeris had sat on that night. The stars were just as brilliant as when she’d been here with Sephiroth. The breeze just as soft and cool. Aeris was sitting by herself, staring woefully off into the midnight sky. Tifa waited for herself to show up, and the sweet bonding moment they’d once shared to begin. Nothing happened, so she took the spot herself next to Aeris, just so she could see her pretty face again. Her eyes were as mako green as Cloud’s, and Sephiroth’s, but on her the strange glow looked much more natural. It was as though the planet itself had placed the color in her eyes. Tifa rested her cheek on her hand and studied Aeris. Even in her lowest moments, thinking of her had somehow made her feel hope. 

Aeris’s expression suddenly focused. She blinked, and turned to look at Tifa, directly in her eyes. Tifa gasped and pulled away in shock. This was a memory, and Aeris had been dead for five years. 

“Tifa,” she said. “Tifa.” 

Tifa froze. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Her eyes filled with tears, and she found herself unable to speak. How she had longed to see her friend again. Aeris reached out and took her hands. Her touch was warm and comforting. She smelled of summer flowers. 

“Tifa.” 

“How?” Tifa managed to whisper. It was hard to breath. Her heart hurt. Aeris looked up at the star filled sky, then back to her, as if that was an answer. The odd thing was that Tifa did understand. Aeris had died. Her spirit had joined with the planet. And as part of the planet she was able to manifest in this strange creation, this cave of their memories, this prison of the only kind capable of keeping trapped the evil that is Sephiroth. It was easiest to focus her being in her own avatar, and so she was here to hold Tifa’s hands and save her from this terrible fate. 

“What are you doing, Tifa?” asked Aeris. Her voice was remarkably human. Exactly the same as when she’d been alive. Sweet and girlish. Had she really been so young? Had they all been so young when it happened? It was hard to breath again. Tifa had an awareness that it was because she was crying so hard. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She squeezed Aeris’s hands as hard as she dared. “I’m so sorry.” 

Aeris gave her a look of perfect empathy, and said again, a little more firmly, “Tifa, what are you doing.”

“I don’t know.” She focused herself, her voice raw with grief, “I. He asked.” 

Aeris nodded sagely, and said, “Tifa, you can’t save him. No one can save him.”

She knew that. Of course she couldn’t. It was ridiculous. She wasn’t an Ancient, or a Soldier, or anything other than a bartender with a martial arts background. Aeris frowned and reached up to touch her cheek, as though she could feel Tifa’s doubts.

“But he asked,” she said, as though that was the important part. “He asked. Not Jenova. He did.” 

“What about you?” asked Aeris. 

Tifa sighed and shrugged, “Well, I’m already dead, aren’t I.” 

Aeris lowered her eyes. So it was true then. She was as dead as any of them. 

“So what do I have to lose?”

“He’s trapped you here with him,” said Aeris. “He’ll drive you mad with him.”

Tifa thought about those strange lucid moments, where a man spoke to her instead of a monster. She thought about how he followed her rules as best as he was able. She thought about the catch in his voice when he spoke about his friends. Aeris shook her head slowly again.

“It’s too dangerous Tifa. He’s been gone for too long. He gave himself to Jenova. He isn’t a man anymore.” She looked Tifa in the eyes again, and repeated, “He will drive you mad with him.”

“What happens next, then?” asked Tifa. 

The planet, Jenova, Sephiroth, had all been locked in a battle ever since Cloud had thrown him into the mako pit all those years ago. His spirit and will were far too strong to simply dissipate as all living beings are meant to do, but he was much too dangerous to allow to return to the surface as she and Cloud had done. A prison of memory had formed around him. Years, centuries, or millenia he would break free, some future Shinra will dig him up just as the original body of Jenova had been, and he would wreak his hell upon the planet again. All Aeris could do at this point was slow him down. 

“Or,” said Tifa. “Or, you could let me try.” 

Aeris pressed her lips together, frowning again. “There have been enough sacrifices in this war.” 

Tifa pressed her lips together. If Sephiroth remained as he was, the planet could never heal. It spent too much energy containing him, fending off Shinra, repairing the damage that had been done thousands of years ago when Jenova had fallen from the sky. His return was inevitable. The Armageddon he promised was inevitable. Her one single soul was nothing in the face of all the lives that stood to end. She understood in that moment how Aeris must have felt when she slipped away from them that night all those years ago. Tifa steeled her heart, and said again, “I can try.” 

Aeris’s eyes softened in a way that Tifa automatically recognized, when she realized she’d lost the argument with her and rolling with her stubborn will was the only way to keep peace. They misted slightly, as if the ghost wanted to cry. This battle was already lost, but she had to make every attempt. She squeezed Tifa’s hands, and begged, “Please Tifa. I can take you out of here. You can be with us. You can rest.” 

Tifa wrapped her arms around Aeris and hugged her tight. She buried her face in the girl’s auburn hair. She held her as close as bodies were able to be. She gave her every hug and touch and kiss that she had wanted to give her for the rest of her lifetime in that moment. But she did not relent.


End file.
